Dangerous Woman
by The-Queen-of-Fantasy
Summary: A female unsub kidnaps Spencer as the team is close to catching her and she discovers that she quite likes his company. Spencer\OC suggestive throughout


Ohh, she'd done good this time. Really good.

He was sitting in the same chair as the other men before him, wrists cuffed behind him and head hanging low with unconsciousness.

She'd taken the eye-catcher. Not the typical dreamboat who had far too many women who would immediately notice his absence. No, she'd focused on the meekly handsome one with delicate features that she wanted to feel for herself.

She studied the way his hair sat in tendrils that almost wanted to curl, how he was indeed alive from the way his chest rose and fell under his striped dress shirt, she even noted the new scuffs on his shoes from where she struggled to drag him into the room with a smile on her face. That heaviness came from some muscles she was delighted to discover on his lanky frame.

All at once he sharply inhaled and lifted his head, his attention then quickly drawn to her watchful eye. They both stayed quiet as he tested his restraints and once he gave up he spoke.

"Who are you?"

She quirked a grin, pushing off her spot on the wall to begin a leisurely stroll. "I'm a little hurt. Haven't you been looking for me?"

"You're the woman wanted for all those kidnappings and murders." His eyes darted around the room, no doubt planning an escape she intended to refuse.

"In the flesh, baby." Her sweet snicker echoed on the cement walls. "And you make this a little more dangerous for me, don't you? I've got a fed now, one of Uncle Sam's favorites."

He fell silent for a few moments, letting the click of her heels be the only sound permeating between them as she double checked the deadbolt on the door and made sure her dress was tugged into all the right places. It was when she regarded him again with a predatory sneer that he took to chatting.

"You're really good at aliases, you know, so good that our technical analyst could never find your real name. I was wondering if it was actually one of the aliases you used. Natalia, Yvonne, Farrah?"

She gave a simple shake of her head. "I know it's not quite fair, Spencer, that I know your name and you don't get mine, but that's how I play. And I happen to know how you play." She circled him once, gingerly brushing a hand along his taut shoulders, drawing out the length of her play to an agonizing pace. "Your job is to know why I'm doing this, hm? You should tell me what you know about me, doll."

When he didn't immediately respond, she knew it was time to draw first blood.

The dark nylons already encasing her legs were essential to her game, not to mention the feminine thrill of primping for an event. She easily slid one knee on the seat of the chair and swung the other around, leaving a little room to wickedly hover as she straddled him. The heat in the closed room was palpable though she had plans to make it delectably worse. His eyes widened as she her hands crept up his arms, teasing each nerve, coaxing any and all of his controlled reactions out for her to note in pleasure.

"Don't I know that I shouldn't be doing this? Don't I have any sense of right and wrong?"

His hazel eyes searched first for anything else to focus on besides her smirk but when she finally let her already heated core drop to his lap his gaze slammed a plea into hers. And yet still not a word. His body was tense under her, unpleasantly so, and she had a remedy for that, too.

"You look a little uncomfortable, handsome, let me help." Her fingers expertly flitted around his violet tie, much to Spencer's dismay.

"You don't strangle your victims, not even breath play," he stated in calm protest, wriggling until she slowly pulled the fabric out from under his collar.

Resting knuckles on his buttoned throat, she cooed, "That's true. And you know I never really hurt those men, not until one painless bullet at the end. They were alive and well for the time I had them, remember?"

"Being held captive for a month hardly leaves room for mental wellness."

"Speaking of leaving room," she'd learned the art of manipulating conversation from a millionaire divorcée, "let's do a little less of that."

She slid her arms lazily over his shoulders until there was barely a breadth of space between them. Her nose bumped his, an invitation, promise, and threat all rolled into one as he steeled his breathing but couldn't stop the shiver coursing from his form to hers. It was all electric anticipation and she thought she would burst at the surge of power from her complete control.

The kiss couldn't even be called as such because she simply grazed her lips across his stony ones. Even through his resistance she could feel the warmth of his flesh, the pounding of his heart against hers as she remained mostly still, letting miniscule movements have the most rapt attention. It was when his eyes finally dropped shut that she knew she was getting somewhere even if his intention was to block her out.

Her mouth still brushed his for a few moments longer before she leaned back and let breaths of fresh air revive them both. "Wouldn't want to spoil all the fun early on."

Relief trickled onto his features as she pulled off and began pacing around him again, sprightly ego in tow. A few of her fingers never quite left him though and they mussed pieces of his hair here and there as she spoke.

"You need more of my logistics to report back, don't you?"

"Did you tell all the men you've taken about your plans?" His gaze followed her this time, a convincing audience for which she loved to perform, and his mouth was parted slightly with pretty pink lips that could beckon the Pope himself.

She cocked her head in endearment. "No, Spencer, none of them. But there's something about you that makes a girl just want to spill her guts."

He simply shook his head, a dismissive gesture that she didn't appreciate and retaliated by slipping the top few buttons on his shirt open. Goosebumps trailed on his skin in the wake of her fingers and mirrored the ones running up her spine. Her lids drooped low, drunk on the touch of his flesh and how she'd get him to welcome her own touch soon enough.

"There's a lot of types of men, you know, but I do have my favorites to take. Gym rats, stoic CEOs, even ones like you, baby."

"Like me?" he questioned and the rasp in his voice scratched at something carnal within her.

"The ones you just wanna fuck between bookshelves in a library."

He stuttered around an answer before settling on, "Surprisingly, I've been told things like that before."

"See? All girls wanna do that at some point, sweetheart."

"Not all of them take it this far."

An evil cackle would have been too predictable but she giggled all the same. She crawled delicately back into his lap, this time letting her legs drape at his hips, and flipped all her hair to one side. There was a sultry beat somewhere in the back of her mind and she followed it to a slow grind on the agent's lap.

"I'm not crazy, you know," she chided, elbows pushed together to make good cleavage great. "There's no delusion that you have to break through to get to me. Darling, I'm completely sane."

He met her gaze evenly despite the red creeping up from his chest. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to convince yourself of that."

Her voice was lilting in time with her eyes searching him down and up, lighting up at the spark of him finally playing along. "You know better? You're so good at your job that you know what I'm feeling?" Dramatic, biting pauses were her forte, after which she continued, "Or are you just getting comfortable with the way I feel against you?"

There were no windows for sunlight to filter in, no telltale wooden ceiling for footsteps to crash through, no distinguishing marks on the walls he could possibly distract himself with, all according to plan. Though apparently it was unnecessary as his eyes were trained solely on hers. He wasn't interested or concerned by any measurement but simply watched her, waiting for her next sharp comment.

Thankfully she reinstated her control by surprising him with a full kiss. Peppermint flooded her senses at his exhale and left a delightful sting. His mouth wasn't pursed against hers, rather it rested unmoving, still able to be molded by her own. She had to rein in a satisfied moan with each ripple of her lips on his and if her thoughts on any of the other men she'd kidnapped were going to send her to hell then thinking about Spencer would doom her to the ninth circle.

She punctuated the mini session by suckling on his lower lip and dragging at it and his back arched at the contact, pushing him deliciously into her.

"Atta boy."

He brushed her off with a stretch of his neck and an indignant retest of his handcuffs. "Don't you usually wear gloves when you work over your victims? We could never find fingerprints or DNA. There was also evidence pointing to the use of blindfolds."

She traced a manicured finger under his jaw, lazily watching her own work as she explained, "Yeah, I didn't want to this time. I wanted to see you and have you see me. I wanted to feel your skin."

He flinched slightly and she laughed. If it seemed like she was having all the fun no matter the standpoint in the room, that'd be the correct assumption. But she had high hopes for the man currently tucked under her.

"Oh c'mon, doctor, it's not like I'm gonna flay you and keep it."

Whether he believed her or not didn't matter so she granted another reprieve and made sure to stretch her muscles to keep herself limber as she strode around. She could've sworn she felt his gaze on her legs, but that must have been wishful thinking because when she turned back his eyes were once more scathing against hers.

"What happens if my team catches you? Is your endgame really here?"

Ohh. Now he was stalling her from slinking back on top of him and any other plans lying in wait. And stalling meant she was really getting to him.

"Maybe," she conceded with an innocent twist of her mouth. "Maybe I wanna get away to play some more. If I do, it'll be even more exciting to be on the run now that you know my face so well."

He studied her features in response and she kept a brow arched elegantly before kissing the air to give him a face to remember.

"Do you have an endgame I should be aware of, Spencer?"

"Hopefully something besides the painless bullet you're promising."

"Ohhh don't speak of such things so soon, dollface." She stepped closer and carded both hands through his hair, giving ever so slight a tug that brought the remarkable angles of his face into the light. "There's so much to do before then."

A quick tap to his cheek and she sauntered away again, busying herself with the small hand mirror and lipstick she'd left on a table in the far corner. She slid a quick coat of color to her lips and relished how it would look on her favorite victim's skin. She had almost decided to leave him alone for awhile in lieu of the bottle of wine waiting for her upstairs but Spencer cleared his throat from behind her.

"Why did you resort to this? You're attractive, you could've gotten plenty of men to engage with you sexually without kidnapping them."

A scoff scraped from her throat. "Now darling, don't give me empty flattery, that's rude."

"I-it's not empty."

"And how am I supposed to believe you?" she drawled, still faced away and meddling with a loose screw on the table.

It was so faint she almost missed it, but he barely murmured, "Kiss me again."

Hook, line, and sinker, baby. She slowly swiveled around and appraised him once more, the specimen now wanting for her very services. "What was that, Spencer?"

"Kiss me again." It was more resolute and this time he was the one convincing himself.

As she neared him again he sat a little taller, his chest puffing out that she braced a hand on as she leaned down to his level. She hummed a note of satisfaction as his tongue snaked out to wet his lips at her proximity, drawing her spiraling closer into what was sure to be soaring oblivion despite their basement level surroundings.

He was gloriously ready for her this time. The kiss she offered was met in kind, his soft lips melting against hers and sending heat flourishing through her chest. There was no desperation but he wasn't holding back either, allowing her to cup his cheeks and slide her mouth open for more access. Tasting his tongue on her own was sweeter than any Valentine's chocolate and she now knew what memory she'd hold dear every February 14th.

"I guess I do believe you," she whispered with lips still on his as she snuck back onto his lap.

There was no room left to wonder this time, no teasing breadths of space as she slung her arms around his shoulders and stole another kiss while his lithe form adjusted to her. The wilder part of her imagination ran with the vivid image of his arms crushed around her waist and grinding friction to their needy cores.

She slid her head forward to be able to purr in his ear, "I wish I could let you out of those things so you could hold me like I know you want to."

"You still can."

"Insulting a woman's intelligence is no way to get a second date."

"This is a hell of a first," he mumbled.

She shifted and took in the whole of his face before even thinking of meeting his gaze again. His lips were pinker from the stain on her own and a little swollen from the action. The taut skin over his cheeks hollowed slightly with each breath and she pressed a peck to each before moving down his features. A mischievous smile split her kisses wide open and she nipped at that point in his jaw for flare, prouder than ever of the lipstick marks trailing behind her mouth working south.

But it wasn't until she'd gotten to the base of his throat that she could feel his voice rumbling under her lips.

"When you get sloppy in your work, it's because your libido gets in the way. And I know that's happened from the way your pupils have been dilated and your skin slightly flushed ever since you've had me. When I get sloppy, like walking back to the hotel alone or not looking up when a noise startles me, it's on purpose."

With a popping sound of her lips leaving his neck, she slowly leaned back in impressed disbelief as he accurately described the way she kidnapped him.

He continued, "I was your next type to abduct according to your pattern, and I doubt you disabled the GPS tracker in my sock before my team got your location."

His eyes were now threatening her, heavy with confidence in his accusation and she smiled radiantly.

"So you're not naïve, my love!"

She was twisting her fingertips into the hair at the nape of his neck when a _thump_ shook the house above them and law enforcement could be heard faintly shouting their identification. By the time the door separating her and Spencer from the intruders was crashed open, she had retrieved a gun from a safe in the wall and was perched back on his lap, gracefully crossing one ankle over the other.

"FBI! Drop your weapon!" the man in front yelled.

Her only response was to brush the barrel along the curves of Spencer's throat and neck with a wicked smirk, which other agents understood and backed up considerably.

The man bowed up further until Spencer calmly said, "Morgan, I'm fine."

Her whole face brightened and she let her eyes graze appreciatively down and up the man's body. "So the dreamboat is Morgan. My, if I hadn't been so set on Spencer here you would've been quite fun to play with, too."

"C'mon lady, drop the gun," Morgan implored. "You've never killed a man the first day you had him and you're not starting today."

He took a step forward and she cocked the gun, the sharp echo threatening enough to stop him in his tracks. "What makes you think I won't?" she tossed back with a wink.

"Well then what are you waiting for?"

She grinned at his challenge and fondly pet Spencer's hair once again, keeping the gun trained on his throat to discourage any funny business. His large eyes effortlessly met hers and somehow made her feel like they were alone again as she glanced down to his lips once more.

"You don't mind, do you, baby?"

She didn't give him a chance to respond before capturing his mouth with her own, fiercely kissing with the pride of knowing she was irking everyone else in earshot. Her lips barely left his before they slid back in for more and the compliant twitch of his mouth was a delightful last treat for her.

"That's enough!" Morgan barked and she reluctantly drew away to face him again. "Now put down the gun and step away."

Her time ravishing the young agent had come to a close and this she accepted unenthusiastically. She obeyed, however, unloading the gun's clip and carefully sliding both across the floor toward Morgan.

"See? I do know how to safely work a loaded gun, in case you doubted. C'mon and cuff me, sweetness."

Morgan was apparently surprised by her sudden submission. "Reid, what's this? She got a bomb somewhere?"

"No, that doesn't fit anywhere in the profile," he answered, and oh how she'd miss that scratch in his voice. "Most of this was a game to her and just because she lost doesn't mean there's a need to self-destruct."

With the danger eliminated Morgan stalked over and yanked her off of Spencer's lap but she still stood strong in her heels as he cuffed her hands behind her back. A blonde agent rushed forward to free Spencer and immediately rubbed at the lipstick marks on his neck.

Everyone was giving her disdainful glares, all except Spencer, whose face was carefully neutral. Now that they were both standing for the first time since the beginning of the ordeal she found herself tipping her chin up to smugly face him, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth to ensure she kept his attention.

"Morgan, let me be the one to walk her out," he deadpanned without glancing away from her.

"Not a chance, Reid. I want her away from you."

The answer was non-negotiable and Spencer could only watch as she was ushered forward. She still managed to turn and give him a sultry gaze as she passed, one last longing bat of her eyelashes toward his pretty face.

Maybe he hated her. He probably did, considering she kidnapped him and eventually threatened his life and all. Or maybe he only hated the way she got under his skin, close enough to feel how much he needed the touch of a woman, close enough to press lavishly on a carnal desire that he probably preferred to keep under wraps.

And maybe that was all she needed to count as a win.


End file.
